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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417228">saint selfish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/0plus2equals1/pseuds/0plus2equals1'>0plus2equals1</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, and also Cale is there for five seconds, now with art!, two women havin a bad or good time at the end of reason</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:41:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/0plus2equals1/pseuds/0plus2equals1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A knight of Mirrah grows close with a 'cleric' from Lindeldt. Even a charlatan can offer sound advice every once in a while.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucatiel of Mirrah/Licia of Lindelt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>saint selfish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rotunda was elegant in its pure functionality. It was a circle of close-hewn cobblestone astride a central rotation mechanism, all housed upon gliding gears that allowed for one path to give way to another. Licia knelt beside the pillar axis of the room and ran a finger over the grooves of the lockstone before yanking it out of its housing. She had toyed with the thing, switching the opening of the rotunda from one door to the other, and now that she felt confident in understanding how the machinery functioned she also felt confident in conning others out of its usage. The room <em> was </em>a marvel of engineering, and she had a dim recollection of some dusty quote about any sufficiently advanced technology being indistinguishable from magic— or, in her case, miracles.</p><p>She settled beside the column, pocketed the lockstone, and set up her wares. The rotunda would serve as a fine bottleneck: it was the best entrance to two vast territories, and wanderers seeking souls would be forced to also seek her aid in accessing the paths. And while they waited for the room to rotate, they may as well look over a bounty of inscribed vellum illustrating the use of miracles, all available at quite reasonable prices. Well, as reasonable as any half-hollow here could discern. </p><p>Footsteps resounded from the stairwell and Licia glanced at the entranceway. Heavy boots tramped down stone, and as her gaze slid upward she caught sight of loose-fitting trousers, flowing sleeves, a fancifully embossed chest, broad shoulders— her once-over skidded to a stop when she glimpsed a silver mask. The chin of it tapered out into a beard and long mustache, the star-marked cheeks were puffed astride a jutting nose, and the wide eyes were striped with slats. The only thing more intriguing than the mask was the angular hat atop it. The black fabric streaked across the stranger’s head in a stiff line topped by fluffy gray down and a curved steel plate. A towering black feather brushed against the arch of the stairwell exit as the knight, likely of Mirrah, as far as Licia could surmise from the ostentation, hesitated at the threshold of the rotunda.</p><p>“Hail,” the stranger said, and Licia bit her cheek to keep from smiling too widely. </p><p>“Hail, handsome knight,” Licia replied. “You sound frightened! I’m neither adversary nor hollow. I’ve merely set up shop in this crossroads. Would you like to take a look?”</p><p>The stranger was silent.</p><p>“I have many manner of miracles that I may instruct you in,” Licia continued. “For to use a miracle is to surround yourself in the favor of the Gods and to nourish your own inner Light—”</p><p>“Crossroads?” the stranger asked.</p><p>At that her grin did go wide, and Licia kept her eyes soft in a bid to keep her expression from becoming disconcerting. “Indeed!” she exclaimed. “This room is not as it seems. There are two, not one, pathways leading out.” She gave the central column an appreciative pat. “And only this lovely thing reveals the other path. And this, you lovely thing—” she added, and she relished the flash of stiffness in the stranger’s shoulders, “well, it only runs on miracles. Shall I provide you with one?” </p><p>“I haven’t a mind for miracles,” the stranger said as she approached and glanced over the scattered scrolls.</p><p>“Oh, the mind has nothing to do with it,” Licia insisted. “Even the most thoughtless simpleton can offer their being to the will of the Gods. Not that I’m implying any simpleness on <em> your </em> part, of course. But you need only faith to be swaddled in their favor!”</p><p>The mask tilted up; the stranger’s gaze had shifted from the miracles up to Licia herself. “You are an odd one,” the stranger said, and Licia delighted in the little laugh huffed from behind the mask. “Is this what brought you to Drangleic? Proselytizing?”</p><p>“Of course,” she replied with a nod. “Do I need any other reason than to spread the gospel of miracles? My preceptor always said this art should be shared with the world— and such is my only wish.” She leaned forward and trained her face into sympathetic openness. “What has brought <em> you </em> to this land, fair knight?”</p><p>“Drangleic brims with powerful souls, and so I came to claim my share,” the stranger answered.</p><p>Another adventurer, then, clinging to glory as a lifeline. Licia pursed her lips and looked the stranger over once more. “With a stature such as yours, I’m sure you’ll carve off a fine portion of this land’s souls for yourself. But if you find your life a little <em>too</em> laden in souls, feel free to then find <em> me</em>,” she said with a laugh. “Even if you aren’t active in your faith, it’s nearly a sin to be a soul scrimper. You can offer up supplication to the Gods through me.”</p><p>“I’m surprised you’ve set up in this little room and not in a chapel,” the stranger replied. “With your sort doing the sermon the offering plate would be hard to lift at the end of the liturgy.”</p><p>Licia tittered. “Oh, all the chapels here are either deserted or stuffed with hollowed heretics. I’ve done my share of searching through this land for a proper pulpit and have found none aside from this little scrap of Majula. But I’m content to sit here if it means I meet someone as gorgeous as yourself.”</p><p>Perhaps that praise veered towards overbearing, especially given the absurdity of the mask; Licia didn’t particularly care. The stranger was either made uncomfortable by the attention or pleased by it and both possibilities interested her equally.</p><p>“...You’ve traveled much of this land?” the stranger asked.</p><p>“I have,” Licia replied.</p><p>The stranger’s fingers ghosted over the hilt of a sword and Licia froze, wondering if at some point she had made a grave miscalculation. Tension straightened her spine and her thoughts turned towards the familiar poetry of a decimating prayer but the stranger’s mask merely tilted inquisitively.</p><p>“I’m also in Drangleic because I am... looking for someone,” the stranger admitted. “Someone very dear to me.”</p><p>The tension relented to a vague disappointment. Of course this mysterious knight was already taken. Licia forced a smile. “I see. Who is it that you seek?”</p><p>The stranger hesitated and gripped at the sword before answering. “My brother.”</p><p>Oh, glory be to the Gods, there was still a chance for her yet. Licia nodded sympathetically. “Well, if you tell me of him, I’d gladly try and remember him for you. I’ve met many in my travels, and it’s entirely possible that I’ve crossed paths with your brother.”</p><p>“He’s a decorated swordsman,” the stranger stated with a tone held carefully even. “The best in Mirrah.”</p><p>When the silence went on for too long, Licia frowned. “And what does he <em> look </em> like?”</p><p>The stranger took a deep breath. “He would… he would look like me. This armor.”</p><p>“And did he wear a mask like yours?” Licia asked.</p><p>“Yes! Perhaps,” the stranger said. “He may wear the same, yes.”</p><p>“I do admit, your appearance is quite striking,” Licia said. “But many that come to Drangleic change their wardrobe— to contend with the weather, to blend in, or merely because their old garb has worn out. If I have met him, it is entirely possible that it was while he was wearing no mask, or had changed into simple mail, or had foregone armor entirely and taken up the cloth. Which I doubt!” she added when the stranger’s shoulders stiffened. “As I’ve said, it seems not many here have the patience for prayer anymore. But, dear knight, perhaps the sight of your true face would jog my memory. Surely there’s some sibling resemblance between you both.”</p><p>The stranger’s fingers tightened around the sword once more, but after a pause, a hand swept up, and with one decisive movement the mask was pulled from her face. There were full lips, a straight nose, and piercing eyes beneath an angled brow framed by tawny hair— but on the left side of her face, a swirl of gray scarring spread out from forehead to jaw.</p><p>Licia hummed. “What a lovely thing, indeed.”</p><p>A dusting of pink appeared on the healthy cheek and the stranger tightened her grip on the mask. “Have you any recollection of him?” she asked. </p><p>“Unfortunately, no,” Licia said with a sigh. “I’ve seen none with even an echo of a visage like yours. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“<em>I’m </em>sorry,” the stranger insisted. “There’s no need to burden you with talk of my endeavors. I’m sure you have worries of your own.” She gestured towards the scattered miracles upon the floor. “I doubt I can make use of any of these, but if there’s something I can offer you…”</p><p>“I have something that even the uninitiated could find useful,” Licia said as she rooted through her robes. “And I can offer it to you for a reduced price.”</p><p>“You needn’t <em> reduce </em> it,” the stranger said quickly. “Let no pity color this exchange. Give me a fair price and I shall pay it. It’s the least we can do for one another.”</p><p>Licia could have clapped with glee but she restrained herself and instead pulled out a shining flask. “A divine blessing,” she explained. “Created long ago by a goddess sympathetic to the plight of the downtrodden. Drink of it and you will be newly invigorated.”</p><p>“And what do I owe you?” the stranger asked.</p><p>“Naught but your name and perhaps the soul of a brave warrior or its equivalents,” Licia answered.</p><p>The stranger knelt before her and reached out a hand. Licia clasped it with her own and felt the bracing chill of souls flowing from one body to another.</p><p>“Lucatiel of Mirrah,” the stranger stated. “And yours?”</p><p>“Licia,” she answered. “Of Lindelt.”</p>
<hr/><p>Licia had several divine blessings upon her person, but only a few were legitimate; all the perceived holy lustre was in the gold pattern atop the opaque ceramic. A mere surface observation revealed nothing about the sanctity of the contents. Most of the ones she carried were full of river water cut with crushed-up lifegems. It would make one feel a <em> bit </em> better but it was nothing spectacular.</p><p>But Lucatiel had received a real blessing. Licia wanted her to return, after all. A true warrior was a font of souls and Licia planned to take her fill from her.</p><p>And now there was a less-than-true warrior stomping around her rotunda and filling the air with complaints. </p><p>“You’re a charlatan, you are,” Cale stammered as he jabbed a finger towards her. “I nearly lost my life on account of that— that <em> hogwash </em> you gave me. And you pushed me to part with <em> so many </em> souls.”</p><p>Licia blinked and settled her face to innocence. “My high prices are on account of me having to risk my own life and limb with my scavenging. And I <em> never </em> open a blessing I find, for fear of fouling the contents. Surely you know that what I sell is <em> as-is</em>. All risks inherent to that are your own.” She tilted her head. “And did you forget that you are undead? Are you unfamiliar with the concept of a bonfire?”</p><p>“No! No. I know!” he exclaimed as he raised his hands to his temple. “I know about— about the— about…”</p><p>“The curse,” Licia offered. </p><p>“Yes, thank you,” Cale said with a sigh. “The curse. I’m here because...” He fell silent.</p><p>Licia tapped her chin. “My dear brave cartographer, are you setting back out to work on your map? Do you need me to shift the rotunda for you?”</p><p>Cale rubbed his thumb against his forehead. “Yes, er… yes. I came to the rotunda for a reason. And that reason was to go… ugh.”</p><p>“Well, if you’re venturing out again,” Licia said, and she could not help the amused shake in her shoulders any more than she could stop her mouth from running, “could I interest you in some divine blessings for your protection?”</p><p>“Oh, are you selling those?” Cale asked, but then he scrunched his eyes shut and furrowed his eyebrows. “Those blessings. Those bottles. Those are— you!” </p><p>His hand swept towards the handle of the sword he had next to no experience in using and Licia’s mouth curved into a hungry grin.</p><p>“Pardon,” a familiar voice stated, and both Cale and Licia pivoted to look at the entranceway. Lucatiel nodded and the feathers atop her hat fluttered. “What seems to be the problem?”</p><p>“This… cheat of a cleric is the problem.” Cale crossed his arms tightly. “In short— I’d like a refund.”</p><p>Licia scoffed.</p><p>“This land offers little, and what little it offers is often false,” Lucatiel stated. “I am sorry that you were both disappointed by a fake blessing. But I bought from this cleric just recently, and it was a blessing that served me very well. It saved me from a horrible death at the hands of a monstrous being deep within the wharf. Whatever she sells, I do think she hopes for it to be true. But for your troubles, perhaps I can offer you this,” Lucatiel added, and as she held out her hand a glimmering light coalesced. “The soul of the damned thing I defeated. In truth, I was surprised to only receive one of them, as the sentry seemed to be two things bound together. This is a warped soul, tainted by cruelty, but it still has strength. Take it, be sated, and then take more care with your purchases in the future.”</p><p>Cale frowned uncertainly. His eyes flitted from Lucatiel, to Licia, and then back to the soul.</p><p>“Alright,” he said, and his shoulders slumped. “You’re very kind, knight, er… whoever you are. I don’t think we’re acquainted.”</p><p>“Lucatiel of Mirrah,” Licia said, and she waved her hands in a shooing motion. “Now, away with you. I much prefer this knightly customer to the complaining cartographer.”</p><p>He huffed, gave them both one last wary look, and then began trudging his way up the stairwell. The room fell silent as his steps grew further away.</p><p>When Licia smiled, it was much softer than the ravenous grin she had given Cale. “My knight in shining armor has returned.”</p><p>“To my surprise and yours, I suppose,” Lucatiel said. “I make a point of avoiding people, but of those few that I have come to know… one seems to always be on the move, but you seem to frequent this place. With things as they are, I appreciate that.”</p><p>“Then sit with me for a short while,” Licia replied, and she patted at the stony ground. “Tell me of your travels.”</p><p>Lucatiel took a deep breath and then lowered herself to the floor before taking off her mask. “The longer I am here, the more madness I discover. This is a wretched place. I wish not to speak to you of my travels. I wish for you to speak to me.”</p><p>“For me to speak to you?” Licia asked as she lifted her hand to her mouth. “Are you asking for a sermon?”</p><p>“If it would please you,” Lucatiel replied with a shrug. “I’ll even offer souls to the Gods at the end of it.”</p><p>Licia hummed. “Sit a little closer, then.”</p><p>With an amused huff, Lucatiel scooted towards her, and Licia began an old tale about the graces of the gods.</p><p>“You’re very knowledgeable,” Lucatiel interrupted as the story was drawing to a close.</p><p>“My teachings were very stringent,” Licia replied with a smile.</p><p>“Hm.” Lucatiel leaned forward and peered at her closely. “So, not <em> quite </em> a charlatan, then.”</p><p>Her smile went rigid.</p><p>“You <em> are </em> an odd one,” Lucatiel said with a laugh, “but at the very least, you don’t seem… well, I’ve encountered worse. I have a hard time finding fault in an opportunist anymore, even if I don’t hold leeches in very high regard. But I’d have much more respect for a leech with some honesty in her. Did you know that the blessing you sold that man was bunk?”</p><p>Licia’s face crumpled and she pressed her palms flat against the ground as she sniffed. Playing penitent was one of her favorite pastimes.</p><p>“I did,” she admitted. “I did know. But when I find empty ones like that— I fill them with a tincture made from lifegems. So they are still meant to heal all wounds! Perhaps I made a mistake in the one he received— maybe it wasn’t as strong as the ones I usually contrive.  But true blessings are so very hard to find! My faith nearly falters with the Gods so far gone from us, but even the shells of their blessings are sacred, and I treasure them all the same.” A tear dripped down her nose and splashed against stone. “To drink of that bottle and receive something much like a true blessing… I make such things so that their presence will bring people hope. Is that so wrong?”</p><p>Lucatiel leaned forward and cupped Licia’s chin in her hands. She brushed the faint damp teardrop trail from her cheek. In her sympathy she did not notice that Licia’s eyes had already dried.</p><p>“I can’t say I condone it,” Lucatiel said softly, “but… do take care. I will not always be near to intervene on your behalf when you have a customer who feels they have been wronged. Perhaps stick to teaching your miracles— you clearly have the passion for it and it is a knowledge that deserves sharing.”</p><p>If Lucatiel hadn’t intervened, Cale would have had an immediate reminder of the function of the bonfire, but Licia placed her hands upon her shoulders and nodded fervently. “You’re right,” she said. “The righteous thing to do would be to spread the love of the gods through my words.”</p><p>Lucatiel smiled briefly, tentatively— the corner of her mouth creased up into the grayish scarring for no more than a moment. “I thank you for your words,” she said as she lowered her hands. “And for humouring me. What do I owe you for this little lesson?”</p><p>High risks came with high rewards, she thought as she gave Lucatiel a simpering look. “A kiss,” Licia answered. “A small and fleeting thing, but I feel such shame for my wrongs— all I wish for now is to be back within your favor, kind knight.”</p><p>Lucatiel’s eyes went wide. “I… I see.” Color faintly bloomed across her cheek and she leaned forward. Her lips brushed against Licia’s forehead and she held the contact for a few long moments before drawing back. The mask was immediately lifted and hid her face. “I must be off,” Lucatiel said. “I have… my search to attend to. I will return,” she added quickly. “And perhaps then you can tell me another tale.”</p><p>“And perhaps then you can give me another kiss?” Licia asked shamelessly.</p><p>Lucatiel cleared her throat as she stood. “If you remain in my favor,” she replied.</p>
<hr/><p>Lucatiel was off on her quest more often than not, but she did return. Sometimes it was merely to make use of the branching paths of the rotunda; sometimes it was to sit at Licia’s side and receive a lesson in faith.</p><p>At the end of one story, Lucatiel leaned against Licia’s shoulder and looked so forlorn that Licia had the nearly overwhelming urge to pinch her cheek. She refrained from doing so. “Why such a sad face?” she asked. “I thought that was a rather romantic tale. It even had a happy ending.”</p><p>“In truth, I wasn’t listening,” Lucatiel replied.</p><p>“Well, there’s little value in an unheard lesson,” Licia gently chastised. “You could have said something to keep me from wasting my breath.”</p><p>“No, not a waste,” she murmured. “It was more… I was listening to the shape of it, but not the content. Lately my thoughts have been very scattered. I have a hard time making sense of them. But these stories of yours,” she said as she looked up and searched Licia’s face. “They are structured towards teaching the relevant miracle, I suppose, but it is that structure that soothes me. It makes sense.” She sighed. “I wish for sense.”</p><p>Licia ventured her arm around Lucatiel’s shoulder and hugged her close. At first, Lucatiel stiffened and her jaw clenched with surprise, but with a few more breaths she eased into the embrace.</p><p>“Shall I tell you another?” Licia asked.</p><p>Lucatiel briefly pressed her lips against Licia’s forehead and closed her eyes. “Please.”</p>
<hr/><p>On one occasion Lucatiel fell asleep. Licia realized a few sentences into a rote sermon that the knight leaning against her side had let her head slump low. Her breath was slow and soft. Her unmarred cheek was pressed against Licia’s shoulder.</p><p>It would be very easy to slit her throat and claim her strength as her own, but Lucatiel was an <em> investment</em>. Licia had seen few with the level of prowess the knight had. In time, she would be strengthened by untold souls. </p><p>She ran a finger over the illustrated vellum as she smiled to herself. Biding her time was tiresome, but it helped that the woman made for good company.</p>
<hr/><p>Lucatiel came across her just as she was approaching the entrance to the rotunda; Licia had been out scavenging and attending to a few quests of her own. It was almost strange to see the knight under the light of the sun. Licia had grown accustomed to the dim interior of the rotating room.</p><p>“Ah, hail,” Licia said with a genial smile. “What perfect timing you have. Are you here for another lesson or do you need only the paths?”</p><p>“Neither, actually,” Lucatiel replied. “I was merely wondering… you may know this settlement better than I.”</p><p>“What, Majula?” Licia asked. “You’re unfamiliar?”</p><p>“I’m familiar enough, but… it seems there are many more here than there were before,” Lucatiel explained. “And some may know of where… where I might find…”</p><p>“Your brother?” Licia offered.</p><p>Lucatiel flinched. “Yes.”</p><p>“I’d gladly walk with you,” Licia said with a smile.</p>
<hr/><p>No one within the settlement seemed to know anything. Licia could see the weight of disappointment building upon Lucatiel's shoulders as she struggled to question a girl who seemed to only have a mind for her collection of stones.</p><p>After a halting conversation with the ever-enigmatic Herald they found themselves ambling along the cliffside and staring out towards the sun. Lucatiel removed her mask and stared blankly at the choppy ocean.</p><p>“None such luck today,” Licia said as she crossed her arms behind her back and rocked idly from heel to toe. “Perhaps another.”</p><p>“How do you do it?” Lucatiel snapped. </p><p>Licia froze upon hearing the strangely accusatory tone to her voice. “What do you mean?” she asked.</p><p>“I have not once seen you falter,” Lucatiel said. “In all our sermons, never have you trailed off, or lost track of what you were saying, or forgotten who—” She paused, took a deep breath, and her voice grew more even. “You are cursed, aren’t you? Everyone that has drifted to this land is cursed. I know that some can resist the way it steals away the self but I cannot fathom how. I thought it was strength. I thought it was souls. I think I am wrong.” She stared out towards the ocean as if the answers hid just beneath the glimmering water. “How do you do it?” she asked once more, her voice quietly desperate.</p><p>Investment be damned. When there were buttons to be pushed, Licia found them irresistible.</p><p>She approached from behind and drew her arms tight around Lucatiel’s midriff. “I have the urge,” she explained, “to push certain things—certain lovely things— to the edge of this cliff and then beyond, and to watch them fall and clatter and shatter apart so that I may pick up the pieces after.” She pressed her cheek against Lucatiel’s shoulder and smiled dreamily. ”And sell them.”</p><p>Lucatiel was stiff as Licia’s fingers dragged soft and sinuous shapes across her stomach.</p><p>“You have wonderful armor,” Licia continued, her hand still idly drifting. “And that hat—it would fetch a superb sum. I’d sustain myself for a long while with such a sale. Not to mention all the built-up strength I would claim from your killing.”</p><p>“Sustain yourself,” Lucatiel echoed flatly.</p><p>Licia nodded and her chin bumped against Lucatiel’s pauldron. “But perhaps that isn’t a good enough reason to do such a terrible thing,” she said with a sigh.</p><p>Lucatiel was silent. Licia’s hand slowed.</p><p>“If I were told that by killing you, I would be freed of this curse,” Lucatiel said, “then I would push you from the cliff, as well.” Licia tilted her head to peer up at her; Lucatiel’s face was taut, her lips pressed thin, her eyes glistening. </p><p>“I don’t want to die. I want to exist. I would sacrifice anything, anything at all. It shames me,” Lucatiel said, and with the admission it was as if all the brittle iron within her broke; she turned and grasped at Licia’s robes. Salt stung the whorls of deadened skin twisting from her eye. “It shames me,” she repeated, and she searched Licia’s expression for reproach.</p><p>There was none. Licia smiled.</p><p>“How desperate we are to be ourselves,” she said as she cupped Lucatiel’s cheek; her thumb swept tears from her curse-marked skin. “You’ve no need for shame. I’ve come to love my selfish impulses. Having them reminds me to strive to be <em> me</em>.”</p><p>Lucatiel made a small and uncertain sound as she leaned into Licia’s touch.</p><p>“Here’s a little lesson in faith for you,” Licia added. “Miracles have been passed down through us clerics since the first flame. Isn’t it extraordinary to think they’ve existed since the very origins of the world? But what <em> you </em> should learn from miracles, my dear knight, is to be just as insatiable as the flame that begat them. You must always want. You must always take. But never, <em> ever </em> should you be satisfied.” She tilted her head and watched Lucatiel closely. “Are you willing to learn that lesson?”</p><p>Lucatiel closed her eyes. “It feels hideously selfish,” she confessed.</p><p>“And that is what I favor,” Licia replied, and she pressed her lips to Lucatiel’s.</p>
<hr/><p>Licia slipped a hand beneath a thin blanket and drifted her touch from Lucatiel’s toned shoulder, to the taut muscle of her ribs, to the curve above her hip. She was sleeping soundly, thoroughly exhausted, with her back pressed to Licia’s chest. </p><p>Licia could bide her time a little longer. Much longer, if need be. She had the patience of a saint, if nothing else.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Please look at this art of Lucatiel and Licia <a href="https://twitter.com/sirriiiiiiiiiis">made by Sirris!</a></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed!</p><p>these characters never even hint at having met in game but this idea gripped me and so here it is. let's get deep in the paint about want and the curse and stayin' alive. maybe there will be more of this if i have more ideas about the ds2 gorls but iunno</p><p>the title, for once, is self explanatory</p></blockquote></div></div>
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